


let's hang out sometime

by cassiecasyl



Series: October Prompts 2020 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Car Accidents, Dead Benny Lafitte, Dean Winchester Character Study, Dean Winchester Feels, Dean Winchester Has Feelings, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Gen, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Post-Purgatory Dean Winchester, Season 8, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural), Surreal, The Impala (Supernatural), Whumptober 2020, angst? probably., i guess, probably inaccurate, this was all written from memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiecasyl/pseuds/cassiecasyl
Summary: While driving at night, Dean ponders his guilt about killing Benny.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester
Series: October Prompts 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954552
Kudos: 4
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	let's hang out sometime

**Author's Note:**

> prompts: Whumptober Day 1: Let's hang out sometimes + Suptober Day 1: On the Road Again 
> 
> I know I'm already late

The impala roared through the lonesome night, its sound drowning out the rain that left ever-changing tracks of art on the windows. Dean stared out past the wipers at the glistening road and let its familiarity lull him in. It was completely dark except for his headlights, or when the moon blinked through the heavy clouds once in a while. The radio was softly humming in the background, and Dean felt at home. Alone, on the road, nowhere to go but towards the next case, a wanderer, a merchant, a hunter. This was where he belonged. 

Except, his heart was left in shards after years of burying friends and family, and his head plagued him with a slideshow of them, their smiles wiped from their faces by death. He longed for simpler times, when his head wasn’t as heavy and his eyes not lined with tears. His hands shook with guilt, and Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly till his knuckles turned white. He huffed, briefly closing his eyes to chase away the darkness. But of course, closed eyelids only provide further night. 

Dean looked out into the night, hoping to see a glimpse of the moon, or finding wonder in the glistening street, anything to hold onto. “This is stupid,” he mumbled then, “I’m not getting all sappy over the moon.” Shaking his head, he turned the music louder and focused back on the road. 

Yet the memories wouldn’t fade, and however much salt his burning tears entailed, it wasn’t enough to stop this haunting. Dean still felt the familiar grip of the blade in his hand as he spun it to kill his friend. Only for Sam, he justified it. Everything to keep his little baby brother safe. And Benny contented, didn’t he? He had a way back, and he just didn’t take it. But still, even when he desperately wanted to believe Benny was happy in purgatory, guilt knew the ways of his mind too well. 

They did everything to escape this place. They fought side by side, made a pact to survive, and now, he wanted to go back? It was hard to believe. Sure, Dean missed it too sometimes, the simple black and whiteness of this greyish dimension, the peace he felt while doing what he had been trained to do all his life: kill monsters. No boring research, no repercussions, no consequences. Just survival in its purest form. But this all was with the goal of getting out. After all, purgatory was a terrible place, wasn’t it?

Dean shook his head again in an attempt to clear his head. Another time he lost sight of the road in favor of eyes’s night, not that it helped any more than it had the first time. 

The impact happened in an instant. One moment, Dean was lost in his dark thoughts, and the next, he was surrounded by blinding light, and with it came pain. A faint memory of being pulled out of hell surfaced, but this was the opposite. He was floating in a cloud of pain, spreading from everywhere, infecting his veins, pulsing or pressing him down. Something stabbed through his leg, another thing kicked him in the head while a thousand shards sliced up his skin.  _ Maybe my heart exploded _ , he thought before sinking back into darkness. 

He was in a fog. It was grey, and Dean knew this color, but his pounding head came out empty. He blinked, or at least tried to. His body still felt foreign, caught in a floating position, or was it falling? No, he didn’t think so. Everything hurt. Then, finally, as the clouds cleared, he was greeted by a familiar face. 

“It’s nice to see you, Dean,” someone said. 

His surroundings were grey, and not at all what he last remembered. Dean tried to focus, to sit up and look around, anything to make sense of this, but his scattered body wouldn’t comply. His sight was blurred around the edges, and blinking alone hurt. Agony echoed through him, and he dimly remembered his beloved car, and driving through the night. Did he die? Was he just another road kill? It was part of the job, yet not at all how he imagined it to go. 

There were grey trees around him, and the air was this certain kind of stale he only remembered one place to have. “Where…?” he tried to speak, but his tongue was asleep. Sleep sounded nice. 

“Shh, old friend,” Benny shushed and pushed him back to the ground as gently as purgatory could be, “You need to rest now. When you wake up, we can go back into battle, alright?” Dean stared at his fellow veteran. For now, he had stopped trying to make sense of this. All he knew was that he trusted the vampire to keep him safe here. Before he could ponder how wrong that sentence sounded, he faded to black. 

**Author's Note:**

> come bug me on [tumblr](https://cassiecasyl.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
